Up there, in the title. Those are two words that shouldn’t be used by anyone born after the Great Depression. (Kids, that’s not the name for the period between Bieber sightings)
Still, when the shoe fits…
Blogging is hard.
I get tired. You know? Sometimes it’s too hard to walk all the way over to the computer and put my words in. It’s so tempting to just drop my letters wherever I feel like it. Just leave some jfiriwofj behind the couch. Maybe a line of d e 3 o 8 & ? 2fdopv down the hallway. It’s just easier.
But I don’t.
I don’t because I don’t want to foul up this little Internet environment for others.
Real-worlders, it seems, aren’t always so considerate.
I was strolling through a McDonald’s parking lot recently on the way back to my car after getting coffee. Some dude in a truck opened his car door and tossed out a crumpled cheeto bag.
The trash can was ten feet away.
I know what you’re thinking.
CHEETOS? Mmmmm. Processed cheese food…
I’m a Dorito man myself.
Never mind the bigger fact that if this dude couldn’t see the trash can ten feet away, he probably shouldn’t be driving.
You might also be thinking the fact that a dude was eating Cheetos either immediately before or immediately after dining at a McDonalds goes a long way toward demonstrating why punching extra holes for more belly room in our belts is an American national pastime.
How many times have you walked through a parking lot and seen small effigy mounds dedicated to overconsumption; little monuments of diapers, Monster energy drink cans, and fast-food bags left behind when their thoughtless owners waddled away to befoul some other region of our tiny planet?
Maybe you wouldn’t think of leaving your trash in a parking lot, but I’ll bet you stuff the lime down into your beer bottle, right?
Spit gum out on the sidewalk?
Wash your hands and leave paper towels on the restroom floor?
Et tu, cheeto guy?
That probably doesn’t mean anything.
I’m still irked though.